What Lies Between
by JakOvsumTrade
Summary: the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge is nothing less than an endless realm of both. Harry knew it wasn't a good idea, he knew that he was making a deal with the devil. But he was trapped in a tournament he was in no way prepared for, and his only salvation was the Gardener of Men.
1. The First Page

Edited: 19/9/19

* * *

You seek that which all who wield magic seek. Knowledge. You shall find this: Knowledge will corrupt. It will destroy. It will consume. You seek meaning, shelter in Knowledge. You will not find it - Augur of Dunlain

* * *

Harry Potter was lost. Physically and metaphorically. He didn't know what to do nor where he was. No, he knew where he was, he just did not know how to leave. Ever since Hagrid had surreptitiously revealed to him that the First Task was going to involve dragons Harry and Hermione had been searching for a way for him to survive. Not even to win, just pass through relatively unscathed. The thought of his most faithful friend brought a small smile to Harry's face, which quickly became a frown at the image of his so called "best mate".

So while Hermione was learning all the vast Hogwarts Library had about dragons, Harry himself had taken to wandering the Restricted Section searching for magic powerful enough to set him on par with the other Champions and give him a chance against a dragon. Professor Moody had given him a pass without prompting, grumbling something about not being able to help further, so he hadn't even needed to sneak in. The only problem was how to get out.

He had never realized that the Restricted Section was so large. And how much it needed signs. Considering all the care the librarian Pince gives to her books Harry had thought she would have at least organized the Restricted Section. He wouldn't make the mistake of assuming again. If he ever made it out, at any rate.

As he rounded a bend he could have sworn he had passed six times before something caught the corner of his eye. Turning to look, Harry saw what he could only describe as a clearing. Like trees around a glade, the bookshelves parted and surrounded an open area occupied solely by a pedestal. On this pedestal rested a single book, and the second Harry's eyes fell on it the book awoke. It called to him, directly into his mind, but in no language he could parse. The world around him apart from the pedestal and the book began to sway but he didn't feel nauseous in the least.

Dark magic, a voice in Harry's head declared, best to steer clear. Nodding along to the sound advice, Harry found himself moving closer. The book pulsed, excited, and a drawing in sickly green ink faded into view on the black cover. In his head, Harry saw visions of creatures from far below the waves blinking in and out of existence. As Harry's arm reached to open it, he knew, had always somehow known, that the name of the book was Scintillating Depths though no words were visible anywhere on its binding.

All of Harry's questions, all of his problems, the answers all lied within the book. Harry was sure of it. Carefully, gently, he pried open the massive tome. On the first page was an uninterrupted stream of nonsense. Harry couldn't rip his eyes away.

Glorious is the Worm who to himself bound the essence of the dead to forever roam within his boundless existence as he too was dead forever yet not for ever though none are fool enough to dare attempt to bind him that was enemy to Arkay as much as the Prince

The letters shifted before him, forming circles out of which grew grotesque pseudopods as black as the book itself with mottled green patches. The wrapped around Harry, around his arms that held the book open, around his neck tight enough to cut off oxygen, around his head with a gut wrenching squeeze. They had no smell, the one over his mouth gagging him let him know they had no taste either. If it wasn't for the constriction Harry would have sworn he wasn't even being touched. One covered his eyes and his vision was split between darkness, the wall behind it, and the inside of the pseudopod.

Then they pulled.

* * *

"So, once again a seeker after knowledge enters my realm. I am Hermaeus Mora, Prince of Fate and Lord of Secrets. Welcome to Apocrypha, a paradise where all knowledge is hoarded."

A paradise isn't how Harry would have described it. He was standing on an island of cracked grey stone surrounded by an ocean of an ink black substance and towering spires and arches made out of stacked books. Tentacles, like the ones that had dragged him into the book, reached up out of the ocean to swipe at the sky. A sky so unnatural Harry didn't even know what he was looking at. Black with glowing green lines cutting across it, broken up only by even blacker spots out of which further more tentacles stretched. If whatever creatures those tentacles belonged to were anything like the being before him, Harry was sure he never wanted to encounter them.

Because before him was what Harry could only describe as the most grotesque creature he had ever seen, and that was after growing up with Dudley "Pig-in-a-Wig" Dursley. A great eye with two pupils out of which protruded six tentacles. If Harry never saw another tentacles again in his life he could die happy; he wasn't even sure he could look at the Giant Squid without throwing up. Around the eye floated ink black patches like those from the sky with even more tentacles. Worse yet, around the eye and the tentacles freely floating eyes would blink in and out of existence without ever actually blinking since they lacked lids.

"Tell me, seeker, what brings you to my realm? What sort of forbidden knowledge have you been denied to drive you to me?"

"I didn't mean to come here," Harry answered truthfully. Whatever sort of demon this was, it wouldn't be a good idea to anger it, "I was just looking through the Restricted Section when I came across a book. When I opened it it sent me here."

The eye which called itself Hermaeus Mora bent slightly in the middle, sides rising, almost as if it was smiling, "Ah, yes, one of my Black Books. It is no wonder you found it in a place named the Restricted Section. Mortals have always feared true enlightenment."

Harry nodded along, more out of fear and the hope that this creature would let him go soon than any real agreement. "Well, now that we've cleared that up, I think I'll be going now," Harry hoped it wouldn't feel offended or decide to kill him or something, "Gotta get back to my search you see."

"Perhaps I was wrong about you," Hermaeus Mora said, somehow managing to sound as disappointed as Dumbledore did when Harry's name came out of the Goblet. "Perhaps you are a fool or a coward. Read your book again to return to your mortal life."

And in Harry's hands was the book, Scintillating Depths, even though he was sure it had not been there just a moment before. Regardless, he wasn't about to wait for the Prince to change its mind. He was just about to open the book when Hermaeus Mora's seemingly sourceless voice reached him once more.

"But know this, seeker, any knowledge you are after is here. In Apocrypha. Especially the dangerous knowledge that others would try to keep from you. After all, dangerous knowledge is still knowledge," Harry could definitely tell there was a smirk in there somewhere, "and therefore useful. Usually the most useful."

Harry stilled and took a while to think. It was true, he hadn't been making any progress in the Hogwarts library and the First Task was quickly approaching. With none of the professors able to help him beyond Mad-Eye giving him the pass and only Hermione on his side among the students the youngest Champion was in a bad spot. He hadn't asked for this yet he still had to face a dragon. Dangerous knowledge could be his only salvation. However he wasn't exactly enthused by the keeper of this library. He didn't think there was any librarian worse than Pince.

"Okay, I'll search here too. But I'll do it my way, I won't just look at the books you pick and choose for me."

A laugh answered him, "Look around. You could spend a hundred lifetimes searching my library, and you will never find what you seek. No, you need me, mortal, unless you wish to be lost amidst my endless stacks. Tell me what it is you want to know, and I will reveal to you the truth."

Weighing the options, Harry didn't think he had much of a choice. "Dragons," he finally said, "I'm looking for a way to defeat a dragon."

For a while, Hermaeus Mora was silent. Considering. Harry felt uncomfortable under the dissecting gaze and was about to open the book and leave after all when Hermaeus Mora decided to share.

"I have what you seek, mortal. A way to defeat even dragons with but three words. It could be yours, for a price."

A way to defeat a dragon with a single three word spell? From the books Hermione had read Harry knew it normally took a hundred wizards casting in concert to take one down. Just how powerful was this spell?

"And what is the price?"

"Knowledge for knowledge. Nothing you can't afford. The question you should be asking, is can you afford not to pay it?"

* * *

Time was running out on Harry and it didn't even have the decency to say goodbye. Hermione was still so sure that they would find something, as if it was sacrilege for the Hogwarts Library to not contain the answer. Harry had his doubts. Largest library in Europe, he had been told, but after seeing Apocrypha, no library could compete. He hadn't gone back there but he couldn't help but think about those towering pillars of books. There was more knowledge there than the wizards and witches of Britain had learned and forgotten since the time of Merlin, he was willing to bet.

A way to defeat a dragon in exchange for just his textbooks from his first three years at Hogwarts. Hermaeus Mora had initially wanted his textbooks from this year as well, but since Harry still needed those for classes he had managed to talk the eldritch entity down. Yet Harry did not go through with the deal. It seemed too good to be true, and being the Boy-Who-Lived was the perfect way to learn that if something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. There was only so many times he could let his hopes be dashed before he wizened up.

In truth, Harry felt he was worse off now than he was before. Everything Hermione learned about dragons and later told him just made him more nervous about his chances instead of filling him with confidence. How was he supposed to stand up to a "Common" Welsh Green, let alone monsters like the Chinese Fireball or, a shiver at just the memory, the Hungarian Horntail. Seeing how lost he seemed, Mad-Eye suggested playing to his strengths and strongly hinted at his Quidditch skills, At first Harry was willing to consider that as a plan before he fully realized what exactly it would entail. Out fly a dragon? On a little piece of wood? While the dragon tries to roast him? No thank you!

Normally he would have asked Ron since his brother Charlie was a dragon handler, but Ron wasn't speaking to him at the moment and, to be honest, the feeling was mutual. Ron could go drown himself in the Black Lake for all Harry cared. Hagrid, his other source of dragon lore, had already bent the rules to inform Harry as to what he would be facing in the First Task. He didn't really want his giant friend to get himself into trouble with his big mouth should Harry go to him for help.

He had told Cedric about the dragons, and in a move too reminiscent of Hermaeus Mora for his comfort, asked for something in return. Knowledge for knowledge. The seventh-year Hufflepuff had certainly been thankful, but wasn't in a much better position than Harry himself. The true Hogwarts Champion had never taken Care of Magical Creatures and so didn't know much about dragons either. All he had to offer was his own half-made plan to use Transfiguration to create some distractions. That wasn't of much help to Harry who lacked the post-OWL inanimate-to-animate Transfiguration lessons to make use of such an idea.

He stepped through the portrait hole of the Fat Lady and tried to ignore the stabbing in his heart at the sudden silence that fell on the Gryffindor Common Room when he was noticed. Three years of winning them the Quidditch Cup, three years of living with them, and even after he had forgiven them all for turning their backs on him during the whole Heir of Slytherin debacle. All of that and this was how they treated him. No matter, it's not like he wanted to spend time in the Common Room. He just had some things to grab from his trunk. He walked over to the Boys' stairwell doing his best to avoid the glares, and once he was out of sight the chatter started immediately. He heard more than one mention of his name and never in a positive context. Of course, how could he have expected them to at least wait for him to get out of earshot.

Quickly making his way to his dorm room and wiping unshed tears from his eyes, Harry let out a breath of relief at finding it empty. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Ron at the moment. He crouched by his trunk, rifling through it when he heard the door open.

"Hey, Harry," It was Neville, "You alright? I saw you come in. Sorry about all of them. You know they don't really mean it. They're just. . ."

Oh, Neville. Poor, sweet, naive Neville. Harry knew exactly what they all were. Cowards and backstabbers. So much for the House of the brave and noble. Harry didn't think there was a single true Gryffindor in the entire castle. Definitely not the sheep in lions clothing downstairs. Not Hermione who really should have gone to the birds' nest. Not Neville, though he came closer than any Harry knew. Perhaps in a few years once he had come into his own. Not McGonagall who had ignored her charges time and time again. And certainly not Harry himself who would have been great in Slytherin. Mayhaps great and terrible.

"I'm fine, Neville. Just taking a few books to the library."

"Studying?"

"Preparing for the First Task, actually."

Neville sat down on his bed and didn't speak further so Harry took that as his queue to return to his search. There were a few too many books to carry, but a quick Reducio and Dudley's old bag quickly took care of that issue. With a last check that he had everything, Harry stood and made his way to the door. As he passed Neville the just barely older boy grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry," Neville said, " that I'm such a coward. I believe you. I don't think you entered yourself into the Tournament. I would stand up for you but-"

""It's okay, Neville," Harry was being honest. He understood, "There's nothing you could say that would change their minds. I know the truth, and so do you, and I know you know it. That's enough."

Neville let go, eyes suspiciously teary, and opened and closed his mouth a few times before simply nodding. Harry gave him a small smile before leaving the room. Things that sounded too good to be true usually were, but Harry didn't have much of a choice anymore.

It was time to make a deal with the Devil. 

* * *

"Once more you tread on the cobbled stones and loose pages of my realm. Tell me, little mortal, have you come to beg?"

"Not to beg, to trade. I brought the books you wanted. Knowledge for knowledge, right?"

The large eye before Harry crinkled in glee as it watched Harry remove tomes from his bag and enlarge them before placing them down on the floor, "So you have. Good. My servants will take those of your hands."

Grotesque figures emerged from nothing, not there one moment then there the next. Horrible heads that appeared like spread-eagle cuttlefish turned into a body almost entirely covered by a green cloak of moss. Four gangrenous arms pushed the cloak aside revealing a vertical maw in their center. The creatures ended in grasping tentacles that floated mere inches above the ground.

Harry let them take the books without argument, stepping back a bit as he watched them work. Their magic almost reminded him of House Elves, what with their snapping and the books flying off after them, but the thought of such horrors making his food everyday made him gag.

"As for you," Hermaeus Mora continued, his voice still ringing with notes of smugness, "I will give you the knowledge you seek. Three words of power: Gol. . . Hah. . . Dov. . . used to bend the wills of dragons. Take this knowledge back with you, little mortal."

As the Prince of Fate spoke the words of power, Harry felt a pounding within his head as if someone was banging on the inside of his skull with drumsticks. It got louder as flashes of the words Earth, Mind, and Dragon raced through his brain before stopping abruptly. And then Harry knew. He knew in a way he couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't realized such obvious truths before.

He knew of the Earth. Of the stones and the hills and all the things that stand strong in the face of change. He knew what it meant to be grounded in reality, and what it meant to be constricted in a cage. Harry had been in a cage for most of his life.

He knew of the Mind. Of the thoughts that occupied his own mind and the decisions that had been made for him in order to control him. He knew the free will that had been stolen from him and never returned. Harry would take it back for himself.

He knew of the Dov. Not the dragons, far more than mere beasts. Part fire, Yol, part sky, Lok. All power and fury and freedom. Fus, Nah, Stin. Words he knew instinctively but could not explain. He knew that he could dominate them all, none could stand up to his will. And most of all he knew not to show any of his new understanding. This would be one secret the Lord of Secrets would not hoard.

Pretending that nothing had changed, Harry let the Black Book form in his hands to leave that cursed place. But Hermaeus Mora was not yet finished.

"Know you do not need to return immediately. Take some time to explore my library. I guarantee you will find the experience. . . educational."

The ground below started to shake and a great crashing sound made him jump and turn. A gate rose up out of the black sea behind him, protecting a rounded tunnel that seemed to reach forever. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all bookshelves made of books all filled to bursting with more books. A sense of foreboding filled Harry just looking down the passage, and as the gate swung open he knew that if he stepped even one foot past it he may never return.

"I think I'll take a pass on that, thank you," he said. "I have a dragon to go beat."

* * *

Harry gave Cedric a nod when the two made eye contact before sitting back to enjoy the sight of the panicking veela. It looked like a certain "little boy" was feeling better than his competitors. Cedric was looking nervous, pacing and mumbling things to himself that Harry couldn't quite make out. Even Krum's poker face broke a little, his eyes revealing his inner worry. So, all the Champions knew about the task before hand. What a farce.

Crouch and Bagman entered the prep tent, the latter holding a medium sized sack and bouncing enthusiastically. "Everyone is here. Perfect." Truly a boreson Ministry employee. "The First Task is about to begin. You just need to reach into this bag and pull out your challenge." Holding the bag out to Delacour, Bagman said, "Ladies first?"

Delacour, Cedric, and krum stepped up and drew miniature replicas of a Swedish Shortsnout, Welsh Green, and Chinese Fireball respectively. Which meant the one left for Harry was the worst of the lot. Typical. Sticking his hand into the pouch gained him a painful bite on his finger and an animated Horntail figurine with a number four emblazoned on its chest. At least he would have something to play with while he waited.

"So, then, the order is set. Cedric, you'll start, then you, Fleur. Then Viktor and lastly Harry."

"You Task," spoke Crouch for the first time since entering the tent, "is to retrieve the golden egg. You'll be scored on your magical feats, personal injuries, and other things on a case by case basis."

"Good luck. When you hear the sound of a cannon that means we're ready for the next person to come out. Speaking off," with impeccable timing a cannon fired, "You're up, Cedric."

With a final shiver and a nod, Cedric built up his mettle and exited the tent into the arena. The other Champions scattered, Krum to brood in a corner and Delacour to take the missing Hufflepuff's pacing. Harry was about to reclaim his seat when Bagman attempted to pull him aside.

"You feeling confident there, Harry?" the department head asked, glancing nervously at the other two Champions, "got yourself a plan? Maybe we could work something out between us right here? Only because you're at such a disadvantage being so young."

Harry pulled his arm away as quickly as he could without seeming rude feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm quite alright, Mr. Bagman," he said, "I actually think I have a pretty good chance of winning this task."

Suddenly Bagman was all smiles, "Knew I could count on you, Harry. You are the Boy-Who-Lived after all."

With that the older man left the Champions to their tent and took Harry's good mood with him. Harry wasn't even able to enjoy how Delacour's already alabaster skin paled further with each "ooh" or "aah" from the crowd. Soon enough the cannon fired again and it was her turn to walk out and entertain. A quick burst of resentment shot through Harry as he caught a brief glimpse of the audience through the open flap as the veela stepped out.

He managed to smother it but some must have shown on his face since the professional seeker finally deigned to speak to him, "How are you not afraid?"

"What? Who said I'm not afraid?"

"If you are then you hide it very well. The only emotions I've been able to read from you are confidence, amusement, and anger. No fear. I know if I was to fight a dragon when I was fourteen I would be terrified."

"Didn't you hear Crouch? We don't actually have to fight the dragons. Just retrieve the golden egg."

"Yes, because stealing gold in the shape of an egg from a nesting mother of a species known to hoard gold is so much better."

"Whatever. What's your point?"

"Are you truly as prepared as you think you are?" A very out of place smirk grew on the Bulgarian, "Or are you just arrogant?"

Filled with rage, Harry roared back, "You're one to talk, Krum!"

"I'll be the first to admit I expected to be the best known name in this Tournament. Anyone at all interested in Quidditch has heard of me. But you. . . every witch and wizard in Europe and many beyond know your legend."

Harry would have responded but then the cannon sounded out for the third time and it was Krum's turn. Angered at the notion that he hadn't properly prepared and that he was just as arrogant as Snape claimed, the youngest Champion tried to put Krum out of his mind to focus on his plan. Now that it was only Harry in the tent he could focus without distractions and without giving away his method of dealing with the dragon.

The little Horntail in his hands growled and heated up as if it were about to breathe fire. Harry gave it a disdainful smack and glared it down into submission. Or at least attempted to. It may have just been a miniature replica but it had been spelled to act like a real Hungarian Horntail and would not be cowed so easily.

"I could test out Bend Will on it," Harry mumbled to himself as he continued to smack the bad-tempered toy while avoiding the sharp teeth. "Just to see what it feels like. On the other hand, I can't imagine it is an easy spell if it can affect a creature as magically resistant as a dragon. Wouldn't want to tire myself out before it's even my turn."

He spent several more minutes debating with himself like that but before he could come to a decision the cannon fired and it was finally his turn. "No time like the present, I guess."

Even with his eyes still adjusting to the light there was no missing his opponent. Over fifty feet long, black scales like sharpened scythes and wings that, when spread, darkened the sky. It lifted its horned, almost bird like, head and spat out a gout of flame as long as it's own body and then some. The crowd chittered with excitement and somewhere in Harry's consciousness he could tell Bagman was nattering away.

He did not care however. This was it. One of his hardest challenges yet. Second only to the basilisk. And unlike the basilisk, everyone would see him overcome as he always did.

Fearlessly Harry strode through the arena, his sure gait not stopping or stumbling over the rocky and uneven arena. The crowd grew louder at his boldness and the dragon shifted over her nest, agitated by the noise and the approaching threat. A loud roar followed by another burst of flame was believed to be the end of Harry before he left the cover of a nearby boulder to show his survival. The crowd cheered.

Angered, the Horntail rose from her nesting position and walked closer to Harry, standing as tall as the chains allowed to show the little challenger his foolishness before she would eat him whole. Still, the Fourth Champion was undaunted.

With a great inhale, Harry looked up into the eyes of the most dangerous dragon species known to wizard kind and uttered but three words, "Gol. . . Hah Dov!"

The great sound rang out through the stands, shutting up the crowd and even making bagman fall quiet. It was almost as if the sky itself had shattered in two. No movement was had within the stadium proper before the dragon lowered its neck and bowed its head to the boy. The crowd gaped in wonder.

Thuri, a voice in Harry's head said, Zu'u los hin.

Harry simply smiled, walked around the dragon, picked up the golden egg out of the nest, and left without so much as a scratch.

The crowd exploded into noise.

* * *

In Apocrypha, Hermaeus Mora watched and began to laugh. A dark, oily sound that stuck to the walls and flowed down into the black sea below. Originally he had been orchestrating for the little mageling to die. As the only Prince with any sort of claim on him and no Aedric presence in his world, the soul would have been Hermaeus Mora's by default. Had he known the mortal could actually use the Shout he would have charged far more, but this outcome was even better. With one dragonborn dead and another hiding from him with the pitiful Skaal, Hermaeus Mora hadn't had a good toy to play with for awhile.

Harry Potter would return to him, Hermaeus Mora knew this. He now had a taste of true power, and his destiny, his heritage, would not allow him to resist another. Wizards seek knowledge. Dragons seek power. Hermaeus Mora had knowledge and power beyond all others, and plenty of experience manipulating both wizards and dragons. Harry Potter's fate was sealed.


	2. The Next Step

_When you learn a Shout, you take it into your very being. In a sense, you become the Shout. In order to learn and use this Shout, you will be taking this evil into yourself - Arngeir_

* * *

Something was different about him now. Harry knew this intellectually but he couldn't really bring himself to care. If anything, he felt better than he ever had before. That didn't stop Madam Pomfrey from checking him over and shaking her head at the madness of having school children face dragons.

Cedric, Delacour, and Krum were around the room, in varying states of health. Delacour seemed mostly alright, her dress was a bit singed and her hands shaking from the adrenaline. Krum and Cedric were both bandaged, Krum's slowly turning red as blood seeped through them. Clearly they had all been put through the ringer, and Harry was sure Madam Pomfey had fussed over them just as she was fussing over him. Not that Harry was really going to complain. Hermione had been the only one to worry about him for a while it was just nice to know his well being was looked after.

The door swung open and all five judges rushed inside, quickly followed by Professors Snape and McGonagall. Karkaroff and Maxime stood by their respective champions while the rest crowded around Harry, but still looked in his direction.

Madam Pomfrey was still fretting around him but he knew an interrogation was coming and would rather get it over with. Harry reached up and gently took hold of the Healer's arm as she was about to cast another diagnostic charm. He shook his head and firmly lowered her hand before turning to the group arrayed before him. Madam Pomfrey finally deigned to acknowledge her employer, giving the Headmaster a mean glare before walking off with a huff to check on her other patients.

"Headmaster," Harry said, "Professors, Misters Bagman and Crouch. Is there something I can help you with?"

The five shared uneasy glances while in the background the foreign school heads were explaining the situation in their native tongue to the befuddled champions.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore started, "what was that spell that you used?"

"You mean you don't know it? Why, I learned it in the Hogwarts Library. Hermione and I have spent all of our free time for the past month and a half there, as I'm sure Professor McGonagall could tell you."

"That was dark magic, Potter!"

Bagman looked very uncomfortable at that accusation, "Well, we don't know that for sure, Severus. The Boy-Who-Lived would never cast a dark spell."

"Are you presuming to know more about the Dark Arts than me, Bagman?" Snape hissed.

The ex-Beater started sweating, but before he could dig himself any deeper, Mad-Eye's distinctive gait alerted everyone to his presence. He was staring right at Snape as he approached, but his false eye was spinning around rapidly and looking every which way, though Harry could have sworn it was mostly focused on him.

"Why, Snape, you got something to confess? If there is something you want to say I am all ears. Afterwards we can get Karkaroff to corroborate."

The Durmstrang Headmaster growled at the retired Auror. However, Dumbledore cut them off before anything could get out of hand, "Alastor, please, we are not here to rehearse old grudges." The wizened wizard looked into Harry's eyes, "It's very important that you tell us what spell you used Harry, and where you learned it. Think about how useful it would be for dragon handlers. Young Ronald's brother would certainly be a lot safer."

"I already told you, I learned it in the Library. The incantation is Gol Hah Dov," The air shifted around them, "and it does exactly what it says, makes a connection between the mind of the caster and the target."

"So it's mind magic? See, Severus, no dark magic. After all, occlumency and legilimency are not Dark Arts."

Snape seemed surprised Bagman even knew what occlumency and legilimency were, but Harry had never heard those words before, "Er, what are those?"

"You don't need to worry about that right now, my boy, you're still young."

When Dumbledore had told him such things before, Harry had felt disappointed. But with his internal change, all he felt now was righteous indignation that someone was questioning his majesty, though he did not understand why.

"Excuse me, sir, but how am I supposed to explain the spell to you if you use terms I don't know?"

"Legilimency, Mr. Potter," This was McGonagall speaking, "is the magic used to search through a person's thoughts while occlumency is the magic used to organize your mind to make it harder to understand your thoughts. To perform legilimency you have to imagine your mind flying out of your eyes and into your target's eyes. Did you spell feel anything like that."

Harry was very glad he had asked, the idea that there were mind-readers out there just fishing his thoughts out of his head without his knowledge as not very flattering. And the bit about the eyes brought up a lot of uncomfortable questions about Dumbledore.

"No, it was nothing like that. Eye contact isn't the carrier for this spell, breath is. And the magic didn't seem to be coming from my mind. It was coming from. . . well, I don't know, but I'd say it comes from what I guess is the soul."

McGonagall gasped and Dumbledore looked shaken. Snape on the other hand was absolutely giddy, "Soul magic is dark magic, Potter."

Bagman paled, but Crouch continued to simply stand there and do little. Harry was beginning to worry about the Department Head, and also for himself because he had clearly said something he shouldn't have. Regardless, there wasn't anything they could do to him as the insignificant ants they were. Wait, were had that thought come from?

"Not so fast, Snape, you overgrown garden bat," Moody cut in, eye still spinning around madly, "There are light soul magic spells. The Patronus Charm for example."

"Which brings a greater question," finally Crouch spoke, "regardless of light or dark, soul magic is notoriously difficult. How could a fourteen year old boy cast a soul magic spell with such power as to affect a dragon?"

"Wait, the Patronus is soul magic?" After receiving a round of nods, Harry continued, "I learned that charm last year from Professor Lupin because of the dementors."

"Show us, lad."

Nodding at the DADA Professor's command, Harry pulled out his wand for the first time in the day, held it aloft and cried out, "Expecto Patronum!" torn between his annoyance at being a performance monkey and his excitement at seeing his father's stag form again.

But it wasn't Prongs that shot out of his wand. Instead the silvery wisp grew larger, the tail far longer, the horns further back and more menacing, the front legs spreading out and out. When it finally became corporeal, it was not a stag that stood with the wizards, but a dragon. It bore a startling similarity to the Horntail he had just faced.

"By Merlin," was all Bagman got out as he stared in shock and awe, and he was not alone. All the adults were looking on in wonder at the semi-opaque class five creature before them. Bagman, McGonagall, Maxime and Pomfrey all shared looks of amazement, while Snape just sneered and Mad-Eye grinned. Crouch, Dumbledore, and Karkaroff were unreadable.

The Champions, on the other hand, were focused more on Harry himself. Cedric gave him a proud smile and Krum gave an acknowledging nod, perhaps taking back his earlier words. Delacour's attitude towards Harry had also changed, signified by her appreciative look. Clearly she wouldn't be calling him a little boy anymore. Harry expected to find himself blushing under her gaze, but instead it just felt right. As if it was only common sense for her to be impressed by him. For them all to be impressed by him. He was born for greatness.

Harry let the spell die and the dragon faded away, his audience blinking themselves back to coherency. Harry could tell he had won them over, he wasn't going to get in trouble, the only one who would support that would be Snape and only on principle. Dumbledore seemed to realize his inquisition was done—though it hurt Harry to think about Dumbledore this way—for he sighed and asked Harry one last question.

"Which book did you find that spell in, my boy?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't remember, sir. I read a lot of books in preparation for this task. I was looking for information about dragons, though, so I'm sure if you look through all the books about dragons in the Library you'll find it eventually."

Dumbledore thanked Harry and then the whole group was herded out of the makeshift infirmary by Pomfrey so that her patients could rest. The youngest Champion lay back and crossed his hands under his head. He was feeling good about himself. And why shouldn't he? He was the greatest, born king of the world.

Harry Potter closed his eyes and dreamed of flying over a far off land where he ruled together with his family, as was their birthright.

(linebreak)

When Harry woke up that evening he was in the Hospital Wing, lying in the bed that Madam Pomfrey had plaqued as his. He was feeling great, strong, as if he had regained his fire. No, not fire. Yol. Though what the difference was Harry could not say. Regardless, he didn't need to stay. And with his stomach growling at him for food the Great Hall is where he wanted to be. Mind made up and nothing keeping him there, Harry threw off the covers and got changed into the clothes left lying on the table nearby.

Once decent, he pulled back the curtain around his bed and walked out of the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey must have been out. Perhaps at dinner. Certainly a better place to be then the sick house. He made his way to the Great Hall, and though it was only a floor below Harry had to climb two sets of stairs before he found one that went down.

"Damn castle," the young Gryffindor mumbled to himself, "I need to get to the ground floor, this staircase only goes to the first. That's where I started!"

Hungry and tired of traversing the entirety of the school Harry climbed onto the banister and threw himself off before he could even realize what he was doing. The ground rapidly approached, a staircase swinging around to come catch him though he knew it would be too late. Then, seconds before he went splat, he took in a deep breathe and bellowed out, "Feim!"

His body disappeared before his eyes, starting with his skin, then his muscles, then his bones themselves. All this within the tiniest fraction of a second and yet completely perceptible to Harry. His ephemeral body hit the floor at almost thirty meters per second more gently than any time Dudley had thrown him down.

Feet on the ground, his body returned, and with it the vertigo. Harry wasn't entirely sure if the vertigo was from the fall or from his brief stint with non-existence, but either way he wouldn't be making a repeat performance of that anytime soon.

That spell felt different to the last one. Harder, not as easy to grasp nothingness as it is domination. Harry made a mental note of that as he finally got to the Great Hall. The doors were closed, however, unusual for meal times, so to get in Harry would have to open them and create a scene. Typically this would be the last thing he'd want, attention was something he felt only cad's like Lockhart or Malfoy desired. But this was different. Everyone in there had seen him back down a dragon with three words. They needed to accept his lordship as the Hungarian Horntail had.

He threw the doors open and the sounds of conversation stilled immediately as all heads turned his way. Looking around, Harry could see he was the only Champion there, presumably the rest were still healing. With a toothy grin he swaggered over to the red and gold table before sitting himself down and piling a truly monstrous amount of food on his plate. Those odd spells sure worked up an appetite. He was choking down a whole chicken leg when he felt himself get boxed in, Hermione to his left, Aar, and Ron to his right, Tahrodiis. Interrogation part two.

"You were incredible, mate! Charlie wouldn't stop gushing about how you just shouted and the dragon started acting submissive to you. He says dragons only act that way to other dragons they consider more powerful. Hey, you'd teach that spell to your best mate, right?"

"What was that spell, Harry? None of the books we looked through mentioned it and you never told me what your plan was, only that you had did you learn it? Was it" she lowered her voice to barely above a whisper, "in the restricted section? How did you know it was safe? Wait, you didn't" Hermione gasped, horrified at the possibility she had envisioned, "you didn't cheat and get help from a teacher did you?"

Harry could only shake his head at the two of them, for very different reasons. "Hermione," he started with her, not quite having a handle on his feelings towards the red-haired teen quite yet, "your help was appreciated and you are a valued friend, but you need to get your priorities in order. No, no one in Hogwarts taught me that spell, but I got lucky. If my only chance of survival, _against a dragon_ mind you, was help from a teacher you best be sure I'd take it, even if it's against the rules. What's more important, Hermione, the rules or my life?"

"And you," Having exhausted all he could say to Hermione without offending her Harry was left with no choice but to address the coward before him. Nikrin. "I have nothing to say to you, Ron. You betrayed me, perhaps not actively, but you did not stand by my side when I needed you. How can you sit there and call yourself my best mate? If I cannot trust you in my hours of darkness then I won't trust you when I reach the light. I have no need for fair-weather friends. I wash my hands of you, Ron. It is only for the memories of good times I do no more."

Everyone who had heard Harry's declaration sat gobsmacked as the fourth Champion shattered the Golden Trio who had held fast together for three years. But none more so than Ron himself. Not that it mattered to Harry, he had already made up his mind. While everyone stared at him in shock he simply finished his dinner and left before anyone could bother him further.

He made it back to his room in Gryffindor Tower without hassle and slipped into his bed. Even though he'd slept for several hours after the First Task, Harry was still tired. And tomorrow would be another busy day, he just knew. Everyone will want to know about the strange spell he had used.

The spell. Gol Hah Dov. Spell was the wrong word. But for some reason the only other word that came to his head for it was simply Voice. Not very descriptive or imaginative. And why had his patronus switched from his father's animagus form to a dragon? Harry had little doubt that these spells, the Voice, had some connection to it. He had to learn more. Unfortunately, last he checked they didn't teach a class on soul magic cast through your breath.

_Although_, he thought to himself as his eyes fell on the cover of a Black Book he was sure was not there but a moment ago, _there is someone I could ask_.

* * *

Knowing what to expect the trip to Apocrypha wasn't quite as jaring. All told it was one of the more pleasant forms of magical travel Harry had experienced, far surpassing floo travel, portkeys, and side-along apparitions. Though that wasn't saying much as wizards seemed to think every method of travel except broomsticks should involve feeling as if you are about to die. Case in point, the Knight Bus. And a case could be made for broomsticks, too, as long as it wasn't Harry making that case.

As with the last two times, Hermaeus Mora was there waiting for him. "Welcome back, seeker," the Daedric Lord greeted, "I see you could not resist the lure of Apocrypha for long, as many before you. Come, explore, lose yourself to the forbidden knowledge and long forgotten secrets."

"Maybe next time, Mora," the fierce spirit that seems to have recently taken up within him chafed in the Daedra's presence, "I have a purpose today. That spell you thought me last time, are there any more like that?"

The unholy abomination seemed to ignore the boy's rudeness, or perhaps it did not care at all for who could claim to know the mind of the likes of Hermaeus Mora. Regardless, its only reaction was a chilling smile.

"Perhaps," was the drawn out response, "but such knowledge does not come cheaply. Surely you did not expect me to just reveal to you the knowledge of the ages for free?"

"No, I would never expect that of you. That's why I brought these," Harry said, revealing a collection of shrunken books from his pocket. The wizard noticed his benefactors greedy gaze as the carefully countered the shrinking charms. The books practically radiated magic, which was why Harry had chosen to take them from the Restricted Section. He had no clue what was actually in them, but figured anything so ancient looking that was so obviously powerful would satisfy the Woodland Man.

It was not to be.

"You have come far, little mortal," the Prince chuckled as black pockets in space opened around Harry, releasing tentacles that wounded and bounded the lad. Struggling offered no assistance, "To steal and trade away things that are not your own for information you could not hope to understand. Yes, you certainly have come far. Such a thing would have been anathema to you before our first deal, no?"

"What is the meaning of this, Mora?! I came to trade in good faith!"

"Good faith? Is that what you call keeping silent about your reaction to the Words of Power?"

That made Harry fall silent. His struggles stopped, "You know?"

"Of course I know. You thought you could hide something like that? From me?!" A tentacle struck Harry in the stomach and pierced through to excruciating pain, "I am Hermaeus Mora, Lord of Apocrypha, Prince of Secrets, and all knowledge is mine!" A second tentacle passed through Harry's head and he felt pain beyond mortal means. He could only wonder how he was still alive at all, "Such impudence, to think you could keep secrets from me.

"I know exactly what happened, what you are. I know far more than you, pathetic worm. You are weak and clueless. But," here the Wretched Abyss calmed itself and would have licked its lips if it had deigned to create any, "you are Dragonborn, and for that I will make allowances."

The tentacles all released Harry, dropping him to the hard cobbled-stones below. Slowly, he pulled himself to his knees, entire body still pulsing with pain from the ordeal. Still, he had been listening. "Dragonborn?" he managed to gasp out between pants.

"A mortal blessed with the immortal soul of a dragon. Why Aka would choose to give the blessing to a mortal not on mundus. On a world with no Aedric presence whatsoever, in fact. The dragon soul grants you instinctive understanding of the Dovahzul, the Words of Power of the dragons, as well as the ability to use the Thu'um. It also makes you far more interesting than the typical mortal. The threads of fate converge on you, my little servant. You truly are a grand prize."

* * *

"Um, Harry?"

The boy in question broke his stride and turned to see who had addressed him. It was Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff from his year. Her red hair was cut to her shoulders and framed her face in such a way that would have been flattering in a few years but only served to emphasize the baby fat still lingering on her cheeks. Harry instantly noticed something missing from her robes.

"Forgot something today, miss Bones? You're not showing Hufflepuff solidarity."

She looked confused for a moment and looked down to where he was pointing, not noticing anything amiss. Then she remembered and had the decency to cringe in guilt, face matching her hair. "W-well," she stammered, "I took mine off when Cedric asked." Seeing Harry's unimpressed face she tried to add some more, "I never made it say. . . well, you know. I just left it as 'Support Cedric' because he's been a good friend to me. Also, I doubt you'll be seeing much more of them after you performance in the First Task."

That made Harry laugh, though not in the way that Susan remembered from previous years. This sound was more cynical and dry, "It is only natural. After all, I have now shown myself to be the greatest of the Champions. No one will want to cross me now for in the likely event that I win they will want to be able to claim a portion of my victory for themselves. After all, I am a Hogwarts Champion, and they were all cheering for me the whole way. Now, what did you want?"

The Gryffindor wasn't trying to be rude, he just had a lot on his mind lately and very little time between classes, his duties to his Lord, and avoiding suspicions. Still, the young miss Bones was not to be deterred. She plucked up her courage and forged ahead in a way Harry could respect, having done the same many times in the past. Typically right before doing something stupid.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me," _the Yule Ball? What's that?_ "I know it's still early, and if you wanted to go with someone else that's fine, but I thought I'd ask you while I still had a chance."

_Oh, right. That event Dumbledore announced during dinner a couple days ago. Guess they wanted to give the foreign students something to do since they can't go home for Christmas._

"I'm flattered, miss Bones, but I wasn't planning on going." Point made and conversation over, Harry turned back around and continued walking. He didn't get very far.

"You have to, though, don't you?"

"What was that, miss Bones?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

"I think you have to. And call me Susan, please." When Harry waved his hand for her to continue with an acknowledging nod she explained, "Cedric was saying in the Common Room that the Champions and their dates will open the Ball. He said Professor Sprout told him. Did you really not know?"

Harry sighed and held his head in his hands, "No, Susan, no one bothered to tell me anything as per usual. Thanks for the heads up. It's only fair that I take you as my date. I'll wear black so feel free to wear whatever colour you like."

With a dismissive wave of his hand over his shoulder Harry left her there, her red blush having turned pink.

* * *

"Here are my greatest magical artifacts, my Lord. A cloak of invisibility and a flying broomstick."

Hermaeus Mora's newest servant knelt before him, powerful items in hand and powerful scowl on his face. It was with a heavy heart that he handed over the last memento of his father and his first gift from his godfather, but his master cared little for something as mortal as family. If any of Harry's family was around they would fly together and burn the whole realm down.

"Very good, Champion, you are learning quickly. I can see the resentment in your eyes and in your heart, but still you do as commanded. You may leave your little trinkets here but don't run so quickly. Let it never be said Hermaeus Mora is not a generous master. Explore my library, My Champion. Apocrypha is open to you as my emissary. Seek out the knowledge to fly and avoid detection on your own power. Would certainly make you a more useful servant. Go, your God wills it so."

The great eye closes and the tentacles dispersed but Harry did not for a second let himself believe he was not being watched. Mora wants him to learn more powerful magics? Fine, Harry would learn all there is to know and be the best damn servant ever. He had little choice, regardless.

The last Potter would bend knee for now, the Lord of Apocrypha was far beyond his current level. But the Dov were made to rule, not to serve. Domination and superiority was in his blood, and now that Harry knew it, he could not let someone else think themselves his better be they man, beast, or even god. So for now he would play nice and be the Prince of Fate's obedient kept wizard.

But one day, Hermaeus Mora would hear the name Harry James Potter and know fear.


End file.
